The 2nd Hunger Games
by onkie
Summary: Braydin's life was turned upside down after the 1st Hunger Games, but his experience with these dreadful events doesn't stop there. Follow Braydin as he makes his way through what will soon be known as the most brutal Hunger Game in the history of Panem.
1. The One From Nine

Hey there! Welcome to the first chapter of the first FanFiction I have ever written. I absolutely love the Hunger Games! It has become one of my favorite book series ever. I swear I've read each book five times, and they haven't gotten old yet. The world that Suzanne Collins was able to create in her writing is absolute genius. There's never been a more engaging series to me since Harry Potter. Building and elaborating on this amazing novel is so much more easier because of the detail that was included in the original books.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this first chapter. Leave your comments and ideas! I'd be more than happy to take them into account for editing and writing!

I'm out!,

Onkie

* * *

The 2nd Hunger games

Waking up to the sound of birds outside your window would usually signal the beginning of a beautiful day, but today is far from beautiful.

Today is the reaping.

It's the one day that is uniformly disliked throughout the districts. Well, mostly disliked. Districts 1, 2, and 4 seemed to gain some interest in it after last year's games. There's even a rumor that they've started training future tributes. That Panem might have their first volunteer.

"A volunteer...", I thought. "Who would ever wish to throw themself into a fight to the death? With the odds against them 23 to 1. Why?"

Maybe I'd never understand these potential volunteers, but that could just be because I'm from a district that had it worst last year in the games. District 9. Both of our tributes were young. Twelve to be exact. Neither of them could bring themselves to harm another tribute, so they were both eliminated in the initial blood bath pretty quickly.

Glancing out my window, I judge that it's about 9 in the morning based on the position of the sun. I slowly drag myself out of bed and look in the mirror. There's no way I'll be able to make myself presentable for the reaping- not that I want to, but it seems to be mandatory.

My long blonde hair is a mess that falls on my face almost hiding my green eyes, but it accents my chiseled pointed face well. Days of working out in the grain fields has given me a nice tan, and the physical labor has toned my body up quite a bit. I'm taller than most 16 year olds, but I don't consider myself a giant.

One would expect me to be loud and arrogant, like most guys that fit my description, but I'm not. I'm actually more of a quiet, reserved guy. I'd prefer to spend my time reading a book (which is a rare occurrence now a days with the Capitol's control on literature) than hang out after my shifts at the fields. Because of my personality, I'm more of a loner where I live. Most of the time I don't mind, but I have to admit, it does get pretty lonely sometimes.

After looking through my meager supply of clothes, I decide on wearing an old button up blue shirt that my father had passed on to me. Supposedly it was made before Panem was even founded. Before civilization came to a screeching halt. He says it was found in one of those old ruins, but I highly doubt it. After throwing on the nicest pair of pants and shoes I own and flipping my hair out of my face, I head out to my families tiny kitchen and living area.

As expected, everyone is deathly silent. My mom and dad seemed frozen in fear, but they have a good reason to be. Last year, my younger brother was reaped. He was one of the ill fated 12 year olds from our district who died the first day. This left me an only child, and the mere threat of having me torn away from my parents was enough to paralyze them in fear.

Without exchanging any greetings, I sit down at the table and glance over what has been set out for breakfast. I don't expect much, so I'm not at all surprised when I see that the only thing left out of the table is a stale piece of bread from a week or two ago. Regardless, I wolf it down. It's not the worst thing I've had to eat in my life. In District 9, you eat whatever you can get, no matter how old it is.

I feel bad that I've left my parents unacknowledged at the other side of the table while they're trapped in their own grief and worry, so I decide to try to make conversation with them.

"So... what should we do after the reaping? We all have the day off, so I thought maybe we could make the best of it."

My mom hardly glances up. Her hair, just the same shade as mine but reaching down to her shoulders, moves just slightly as she nods in what seems like agreement to my statement. I'm not entirely convinced that she really agrees though, because I can see tears start to form in her hazel eyes after my mention of the reaping. Maybe making conversation with them wasn't the smartest idea.

I'm about to give up on the conversation when my father suddenly picks up his head. While I get almost all my looks from my mom, you'd never guess my father was, well, my father. His eyes are a deep shade of brown as is his hair which is cut super short. His face is more of a box shape than my pointed face, but his physique is pretty much the same as mine.

"Braydin-" my father says slowly, almost as if it pains him, "- don't get reaped.."

I'm not sure why he says this seeing as it's not my choice whether I get reaped or not, but I agree to save him and my mother the worry of losing another child to these sick games. After this, my father gives a weak smile and drops his head again muttering something about being at the town square by 1 in the afternoon. Maybe he said something else too, but if he did, I didn't hear it.

Deciding that pushing a conversation with my grief stricken parents isn't going to get me anywhere, I excuse myself from the table and head towards the door. Neither of my parents make a move to acknowledge my departure, but I still hesitate at the door for a few seconds almost expecting them to say something. They don't, so I slip out the door without another word.

I understand why my parents are so upset, but it still bugs me how they act sometimes. I know they lost one of their sons, but I'm still here, and now I feel like I'm growing up without parents. It's hard, but I've still got some one I can lean on here; some one who cares.

I find myself at that someone's house very quickly. I don't know if she was expecting me or not, but either way Lianna, the certain someone I've been talking about, bounds out the door and hugs me. The force of her body colliding against mine almost sends me to the ground, but I manage to keep my balance.

"Braydin!" she shouts, and I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. Her blue eyes sparkle and really offset her jet-black hair. She's about my height, and is considered really tall for a girl our age. She's the kind of girl that guys drool over. Her even skin tone and model like body are the envy of every girl her age, and most girls older than her. I know she doesn't see it, but in everyone else's eyes, she's considered a teenage beauty.

Finally releasing her arms from around my neck and stepping back she says, "I'm so glad you came before the reaping. I needed to get out of that house."

"I know what you mean. I was going to drown in the misery had I not jumped out of my house in time. Besides all that though, do you wanna go get one more training session in before the big event today?"

"I'm hoping it won't be necessary, but lets go." She says this with a distracted and thoughtful look; her eyes pointed at the sky as if there was an answer and escape from this hell somewhere up there.

As she brings her eyes and mind back down to Earth, we start making our way towards the small wooded area surrounding the fields of grain. A few years back, during the rebellion, we found our own secret grove in these woods. It was a place for both of us the escape the chaotic environment that the rebellion cloaked Panem with. Once the Hunger Games were announced, we both came up with a plan; train, train, and train. We wanted to be prepared and able to get back home should Lady Luck decide to turn on us and throw us in these games.

Since we were a poor farming district, we didn't really have any chances to get our hands on anything fancy like bows and arrows right away, but after searching around, we were able to find some old weapons left behind by rebels and fugitives during the rebellion. This gave us the resources to train our archery, swordplay, and throwing knife abilities.

I know this makes us sound no better than those tributes that are training in the wealthier districts, but there's a difference between us and them. They train to volunteer for the fame and fortune, we train to save our own skins.

Once we arrive at the grove, we both decide to start with a mock sword fight. These are always brutal. The swords we have have long since been dulled down to the point where they couldn't kill a fly, but they still left painful nicks and bruises.

We both pick up the medium length steel swords and face each other, neither of us making a move. Suddenly, she rushes, and swings her sword quickly at my sword arm, but I dodge and knock her blade out of the way. I follow up with a quick slash from shoulder to hip, but she dodges out of the way easily. We've been sparring and training for almost two years now, so we've ended up getting pretty good.

We continue sparing for a good 15 minutes before she finally finds a way to get through my defence. I got in for a quick stab to her shoulder after knocking her off balance, but it quickly becomes apparent to me that she faked her stumble to bait me into lowering my guard. Sneaky and risky move, but it works. She flicks her blade up just in time to block my blow and then does a complete 360, smashing her blade into my gut and throwing me back. I fall on my back and realize how dead I would be had this of been actual combat, but it's not and I'm able to escape this fight with just some bruises.

"Hah! I got you! Shouldn't be so careless!" she yells and smirks at me.

Naturally I'm not going to let this go by unnoticed, so I leap forward and tackle her to the ground. She screams and laughs as I pin her down. Once I manage to pin her down, something strange happens. She looks into my eyes like she never has before and suddenly starts getting sad. This sudden change of mood is alarming, so I roll off her and lay next to her and just stare up at the tree canopies.

"Braydin.. I'm scared." She whispers just loud enough for me to hear. "I'll got a bad feeling about today. A really bad feeling."

This leaves me kind of dumbstruck. She's worried? That out of all the kids in our district that one of us will get picked?

Without looking at her I say, "Well, don't be. We're Lianna and Braydin, the two best friends this district has ever seen. I'm sure no one would want to see us split up. Someone would volunteer if one of us were picked." As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize how stupid and naive I sound. Did I really just suggest that someone would abandon their family and friends just so two teenagers wouldn't have to be split apart? So that two strangers wouldn't have to watch the other die in the Hunger Games?

In the silence that comes after my statement, I can tell she doesn't believe a word I just said, but that she won't say anything to try to make me feel as if I'm helping her. Normally this kind of cover up would upset me, but I know better than to push Lianna when she's in this kind of mood. Instead, I just lay there next to her and try to forget the horrors this next few days will bring.

The town square is full and noisy; filled with tears of fear and those few awful people already starting to place bets on who will be sent to their death. In my opinion, this is the one of the worst parts of the this disgusting "holiday." These filthy rich people in the Capitol get to watch us and squeal in delight as they revel at the sight of us huddling in our age based groups in clothes they wouldn't even dare wipe their bathroom floor with.

I walk up to the attendance booth and have my name checked off by one of the many peacekeepers the Capitol has sent in to oversee this reaping. These "keepers of the peace" didn't seem the slightest bit interested in being here, but yet again, they never seemed interested in doing anything.

After checking in I make my way over to the 16 year old boy's section. I walk towards the back and just stand there waiting for this thing to start. I try to find Lianna in the crowd, but I don't catch a glimpse of her. I stand by myself in the crowd and no one seems to take notice of me, but that's just as I expected. I decide to just stand around and listen to see what's been going around in the district. I hear boys my age talking loud, very loud. Things fly from their mouths like;

"She couldn't keep her legs closed to save her life!"

"I hope that idiot gets picked for the games. One less dumbass to worry about."

"You see what he did! We lost the game because of him! He better wait till we have our rematch.."

After listening in for a few minutes I quickly get bored. Everyone my age here seems to be preoccupied were sex and reputation, which is pretty stupid when they should be worrying about our totalitarian government and starving to death.

"You think the rumors are true?" I hear this whispered from a short kid standing a few rows in front of me. I'm not sure who he's talking to, but he's obviously not doing too good of a job at being quiet. I'm about to tune him out when I hear, "District 13- new rebellion-" but that's all I could make out. New rebellion? One was just lost. District 13? That was blown off the map. This kid must of fallen into drugs; Lots of guys my age do, and it messes with them.

"Welcome, District 9." Our mayor says into the microphone. Immediately everyone in the crowd is silenced. This is the time everyone has dreaded the most. The reaping has begun.

"To start off today's festivities, I will read the Treaty of Treason, as is the tradition every year, to remind the district of its crimes and punishments for its unprovoked rebellion."

This seems to be everyone's cue to zone out or quietly continue previous conversations. Everyone knows this treaty is complete crap. It's just a way to remind all of us that we don't stand a chance against the tyranny that is the Capitol.

The mayor finishes his long drawn out speech and looks around nervously as if he doesn't know what to do. Finally he seems to pull his head together and announces our escort.

"Please give a warm welcome to this year's escort, Bredee Braidaisia."

At the mention of her name, an eccentric looking woman jumps out of her chair and makes her way over to the microphone in her ridiculously tall heels. This woman completely embodies the lifestyle of excess that the people of the Capitol live. Her long neon green hair falls down to her ankles and has many different color ribbons and chains braided in it. Her skin is dyed a vibrant red and her eyes are multitudes of different color. The amount of clothing this woman wears is laughable at best. She wears a strappy short dress that looks like it's meant to show off every alteration this woman has ever had or will have.

"Welcome, welcome, District 9! Today, we start the wonderful event known as, the Hunger Games!" she chirps and giggles right after she says this.

"This girl is a complete idiot.." I sigh under my breath.

"Today, we get to pick one oh so lucky girl and boy tribute! Isn't that exciting?" She exclaims.

If silence could kill, this woman would of dropped dead right there and then. That last comment was way over the line.

"Well, why don't we start with the ladies?" She says. She gives a slight little curtsey to emphasize her choice of picky a girl tribute first and walks over to the bowl. She swirls her hand over top and makes faces at the crowd. To her, these antics must be thrilling, but to us, they're just straight up aggravating. Finally, her hand makes a dive into the bowl. She slowly withdraws her hand and is holding a single slip of paper. That one single slip that sentences a child to death.

"Quinoa Jossan! Would you care to join me up here, sweets?"

This woman is an idiot. Asking if this girl wants to go up there? Had it actually been a choice, the question wouldn't of even needed to be asked.

I look over and I see a girl walk out of the 17 year old's area. She holds her head up high and squares her shoulders and walks to the stage with every bit of confidence she can muster, and there's a whole lot of confidence in the girl. She steps up on stage and glares out at the crowd. Her gray eyes daring anyone to take pity on her. Her brown hair tied up in a bun makes her seem even more ferocious. She's average height, but she's got muscle.

It's right then and there that I make up my mind. This girl is dangerous.

"Oh, yay! A determined one! Would you care to tell us your name?" Bredee says.

"I'm pretty sure your crazy colored lips made sure eveyone knew my name." Quinoa says this with a smirk and doesn't even bother to look at Bredee's shocked face.

"W-well let us continue the reaping." Bredee says uncomfortably and shuffles away from Quinoa.

Damn that girl has an attitude.

Bredee slowly makes her way over the the guy tribute's bowl and repeats the whole annoying process of putting us all in suspense. This time though, Quinoa gets fed up. She turns to face the escort, clears here throat and shoots her a loom the clearly says, "Get on with it." At this, Bredee hurridly shoves her hand into the bowl and pulls of a slip.

"Braydin Vanderhue!"

What? What did that woman just say? Di- did she just say my name?

"Braydin Vanderhue?" She coos again as if she was making sure she said it right.

Slowly I start to walk out to the aisle and make my way to the stage, but the second I step out my eyes meet Lianna's. She's on the verge of tears and her sky blue eyes are filled with pain. Without warning she bolts towards me. She crashes into me but she keeps her composure and just holds onto me.

The moment is broken up quickly by the peacekeepers though. The forceably pull her off me and I watch as she's pulled away towards the back of the crowd. I give her one last reassuring smile and turn once again to face the stage.

Let the games begin.


	2. The Journey Begins

Here we go! Onto chapter two! Hopefully you all like the characters so far. It's going to be fun revealing their background and their hidden personality quirks. Also, keep your eyes out for a little original Hunger Games quote! I couldn't resist putting on in there!

As always, review!

I'm out!,

Onkie

* * *

"Well, this certainly isn't how I expected today to go." I think to myself as I sit alone in my holding room in the Justice Building. I'm supposed to be waiting in her until I finish my goodbyes, but this is really more of a 'wait-in-here-and-don't-cause-a-scene' room. If it was up to the Capitol, I'm sure I'd be stuck on the Tribute Train the second my name was picked from that bowl.

The room I'm in is surprisingly nice. The walls and floors show some obvious signs of wear and tear, but the elaborate rug and paintings do a good job of covering it up. The furniture is all dark wood and the fabric is a deep red. The pillows covering these couches are also a deep red and are soft to the touch. I've never seen anything like this. It's just as every bit nice as what I've read in books. I'm sure this is nothing compared to the Capitol though. If it wasn't for the circumstances surrounding my visit, I might of actually enjoyed being whisked away to the Capitol.

My admiration of the room is cut short as the door opens and my first visitor comes in. I look up to see who it is, and my heart breaks. My parents are standing by the door, their eyes shedding tears with the intensity of a ravage rain storm. They can't seem to form words and just stand there.

I don't know what to do. Do I just stand here, or should I talk to them? Should I just hug them and tell them it'll be alright? I know doing absolutely nothing won't solve anything, so I decide to try to put them at ease.

"Mom, dad.. I-" I'm cut off pretty quickly as they walk forward, wrap their arms around me, and just weep. I can't begin to imagine how painful this is for them. They lost their youngest son to the first games, and now they're about to lose their oldest to the second.

Finally, my dad manages to speak.

"Son, you can win this. We know you can. Please, just come home. You can play these games; you can win them." At this statement, my mother nods her head, but it seems to do nothing to stop her flow of tears.

Between sobs she manages to squeak out, "I love you, Braydin." She looks at me with such pained eyes that it's hard to hold her gaze. Nothing can express how hard a goodbye is. Not just any goodbye, but the seeing off of one's child to the grave. It's heartbreaking.

"I love you too, mom." She gives me a weak smile and then the door opens. The peacekeeper informs us that our time is up and that my parents have to leave now. This causes a whole new round of tears from my mother, and she has to be escorted out of the room.

This entire ordeal has already proven to be emotionally draining. I've only gotten through the first visitors, but I already am starting to wonder if I can handle any more of this. I can't let myself cry, but if I have to keep this up, I might just. I know if I get pushed to tears, I know who will of have caused it. As soon as I taper off that thought in my mind, the door opens and the person I dreaded and longed to see the most stands in the doorway.

Lianna's blue eyes are swimming with so many different emotions; hurt, sadness, worry, confusion- and the one I fear the most- questions. I don't know how these next ten minutes will go between us, but I can't figure out if I'll grow to love or hate them.

She steps in and closes the door behind her and starts making her way over to me. She walks up, hugs me, and then motions for me to sit down. She obviously wants answers.

"So, what now?" She asks glancing at the floor between our feet. "What's going to happen?"

"I don't know Lianna. I really don't. I wish I had answers, but all I have are questions that I wish someone could answer." This answer doesn't seem to satisfy her, but I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say exactly.

"I never thought this would happen to you, Braydin. I never thought this would happen to either of us. What am I supposed to say? I don't want to say goodbye, because that would just convey that I don't expect you to make it back. I don't want to say see you soon, cause then I could of possibly wasted my last goodbye." At this, she looks up and stares into my eyes again, but there's something different than I've ever seen before in these eyes. It's as if Lianna isn't behind those eyes. As if she's pulled herself away. As if she's already preparing to never see me again.

"Lianna, you know I'm going to fight. You know I'm going to give it all I have."

"But what if that's not enough Braydin?" Her sudden outburst shocks me. It isn't like her to lose her temper like this. I stay silent, but after a while I become aware that her question wasn't rhetorical.

"It will be enough. I'll win this thing. I'll come home and we'll never have to worry about any of this again. I promise. I promise I'll win this thing."

She breaks our gaze just long enough for a single tear to fall from her sky-blue eyes, and then stands just as the door is opened again.

"Time is up you two." The peacekeeper says in a bored tone.

Lianna starts to walk away, but stops and turns back. She presses something into my hand and says, "Remember, you promised." She turns again and walks out of the room with every bit of confidence she can. The door closes, and for the first time I realize that this could've been the last time I see her. That's when the tears I've been holding in for the past hour finally break their barrier and spill out of my eyes.

Me and my district partner stand on the empty concrete platform and watch as we spot our train in the distance. The station isn't a very impressive structure, but neither is any building in District 9. It's plain and made of a rough gray stone. None of the citizens in the district ever use this place though since travel between districts is illegal.

Finally, the train comes to a halt in front. Its long sleek body is a shiny silver color and almost seems to glow from the light reflected off it from the sun. I start to wonder how we'll possibly get in since there doesn't seem to be a visible door, but out of nowhere a small panel pops out and slides over revealing a previously hidden entrance. Our escort ushers us in and my first taste of Capitol decadence blows me away.

The train is filled with tables all piled high with foods I've never seen before. I also manage to spot what looks like a sitting area with plush expensive looking couches and armchairs. The rug is undoubtedly soft under my shoes, and I have the urge to take them off and just walk around on the amazing looking carpet. The walls are covered with artwork of places I've never seen before; magnificent cities, beautiful mountains, and bleach white sand beaches.

I look over at my district partner to see how she's reacting to all of this. At first glance her face gives off the same defiant and arrogant look as always, but after a few seconds it becomes obvious that she is trying hard to not show impression at this sight. Noticing that I'm staring at her, the surly 18 year old looks over at me and gives me a little smirk. She walks off, grabbing a roll off the table and plopping down on one of the couches. She kicks her feet up on the table in front of the couch and I can't help but laugh at our escort's face.

"Take those feet off at once! That's mahogany!"

"Ma-wha?" Quinoa says in a teasing like tone.

"Ma- oh you heard what I said! Feet off!" Our escort snaps.

I half expect Quinoa to throw back another witty comment like she did at the reaping, but instead she slips her feet off the table and just smiles to herself.

"What a strange girl." I say to myself.

I finally start walking towards the table piled high with food and am immediately overwhelmed. I don't recognize more than half of the foods set out on the table. There's the obvious stuff like bread, and broths, but beyond that, I can't put a name to any of the dishes. After a while I decide to have some of the bizarre looking chicken in an orange looking sauce. It tastes like nothing I've ever had before. Sensations erupt in my mouth that I have never experienced before and I can't help but shiver. Right then, someone walks into the compartment. By the looks of it, I'm guessing it's our mentor.

Since District 9 hasn't had a mentor yet, the Capitol has assigned us an official from one of the many peacekeeper training facilities. This man looks the part of someone who could train a peacekeeper though. He looks rough and dangerous. He's tall, and has broad shoulder, and unlike many of the Capitol citizens I've seen on T.V., he has no crazy alterations. His hair is cut very short, and is jet-black kind of like Lianna's. His eyes are a deep gray, and his jaw line is very defined and boxed. This man looks absolutely terrifying.

"Ah, so from what I saw at the reaping, there might actually be a chance the District 9 could win this thing." He says this with an unexpected amount of enthusiasm and interest.

"You all seem a lot better prepared than those other two shrimps from last year. I knew from the second they walked in that they didn't stand a chance."

What did he just say? Did he say those other two shrimps? I know my brother might not of been the biggest guy, but he sure doesn't deserve to be talked about like that!

"Hey!" I shout. "Don't talk about my brother like that!" This seems to really throw everyone off. Even Quinoa has lost the arrogant look on her face and stares at me in shock.

"Brother? Your brother fought in the Hunger Games last year?" Quinoa asks with a touch of disbelief in her voice.

"Are you joking? I can't believe my luck, or well, I guess the complete opposite of that really. My sister was tribute in last year's games too." Her voice gets quiet at the end of her sentence almost as if she's lost in thought. Her statement manages to send another shock through the room. All of us just stand there, too shocked to move.

Finally our mentor speaks up again.

"Well, what are the odds. The Capitol is going to love this. Two grief stricken siblings fighting to honor their lost siblings. What a year this will be. Anyways, let's cut the chit-chat. We can talk more about our dead family later. First off, my name is Julius Hesper. I'll be your mentor and all that good stuff."

I decide to ignore his rudeness towards my family- Hunger Games predicament and make sure this guy doesn't want to see me dead in that arena. Quinoa must decide the same thing, because she is the next one to talk.

"So, what's the plan old man?"

Julius glares at her and acts as if he didn't hear the last part of the comment, but it's obvious he hates being called old. I make sure to make a mental note of that for later.

"The plan is to do whatever the hell I say little lady. Questioning my judgement will only get you killed."

"Well that's great and all, but I'd like to hear a detailed plan just as much as she would." I interject into the conversation. This obviously isn't expected as Julius seems a little surprised to hear me join this conversation.

"You wanna know a plan? Let the stylist do whatever the heck they want to you, smile and make sure the people of the Capitol love you and after that, stay alive." He laughs after finishing what he calls a plan snatches a bottle of amber looking liquid off one of the tables. He proceeds to walk out of the room after this into another compartment, but we can still hear his loud booming laughter from behind the closed door.

"Wow. With that guy as our mentor we're gunna get killed." Quinoa says this and drags out her last word to put emphasis on it.

As much as I hate to admit it, I think she's probably right.


	3. Silver Bullets and Other Heavy Machinery

Hey!

So I apologize for this chapter! It is so insanely short and isn't the most well written thing ever. I started hitting some writers block and words just didn't come to me as easily. I would of skipped this chapter, but as you'll be able to tell, there's a pretty important event in here.

As always, review! :D

I'm out!,

Onkie

* * *

"Normally a train ride from District 9 to the Capitol would only take a quarter of the day at the most. This trip is going to take a tad longer though. Something to the tune of a day and a half." These words come from Bredee and her ridiculous accent. Who could ever take someone with an accent like that seriously?

"Why's it going to take longer? Speeding around in a silver bullet really isn't my thing." Says Quinoa. Her long brown hair is now out of its bun and cascades down her back.

It's obvious Bredee doesn't have an ounce of respect for Quinoa since she doesn't look at her when she replies.

"If you must know, this train has to go to a military base in District 6 to pick up some cargo. Don't bother asking what the cargo is, because I don't know."

Quinoa, acting as bored as ever, replies with, "Fair enough you cranky old witch."

It's easy to see the muscles in Bredee's jaw tighten as she forces herself to hold her tounge. I just barely catch a small hand gusture made in Quinoa's direction. I'm not sure what it was, but it seemed oddly insulting. Quinoa doesn't see it though, and continues to stare at the ceiling of the train car.

Since everyone has started to ignore eachother in the main compartment, I decide to go find my room. Hopefully, there I'll be able to find a change of clothes. This formal attire is qutie annoying and way too constricting. Any longer with it on, and I might pass out.

I turn into a hallway and immeditaly pick out the room that must be mine. On the front of the door there's a sign that clearly reads, "Braydin." Pushing open the thick wooden door and stepping into the room, I'm instantly amazed.

This might only be a room on a train, but it's nearly as big as my house back in District 9, and a heck of a lot nicer. Everything in this room seems oversized; the bed, the dresser, the mirror, everything. It's hard to imagine how one person could need all of this stuff.

Opening one of the dresser drawers, I quickly pick out a plain black shirt and white shorts and head towards what looks like the bathroom.

Like the bedroom, it's huge. While the bedroom was more traditional, this bathroom seems extremly futuristic and foriegn. Everywhere I look there seems to be a button, knob, or dial. There are multiple picture frames with moving images in them. I've never seen anything like it before. I reach my hand out to touch it, and as soon as I do, the images move and change.

I don't know what I did, but obviously touching that screen caused the shower to put out an onslaught of perfumes and scents. I make a quick mental note to keep away from the screen and I strip down and go about figuring out how to figure out this shower.

After a good hour and a half, I'm through the shower and laying on my over-sized bed. What's going to happen to me? How am I going to survive? These games are tough, and I'm just a normal district boy. How am I expected to win a game that's meant to kill me?

My brain keeps running, and before I know it, I'm fast asleep. The days events have worn me out and I need the rest.

When I wake up and glance out the window, I realize that it's now late at night. Looking over at the lit up clock beisde my bed, I find out that it's one in the morning. I'm about to go to sleep when I hear voices outside my window. This is the first time that I've realized that the train is stopped.

I decide that listening in can't hurt, so I creep over to the window and try to focus on the words.

"What does the Capitol want with all of this stuff?" I hear one of the men ask another.

"I'm not sure, and I'd rather not know. With the games as close as they are, they could have something nasty planned."

"Yeah, they really could. But this stuff... what's the use of it? Automatrons don't seem like a very good addition to the games.."

"Automatrons?" I think to myself. Why are we picking up automatrons? If the men are right and these are for the games, then what will they be used for?

Hundreds of grizzly thoughts and ideas pass through my mind; ways the Capitol could kill us with these robots. I thought if I was to die in these games that it would be to a fellow tribute who was forced in just as I was. Not a souless hunk of metal under the control of the gamemakers.

I know after hearing this, I won't be sleeping for the rest of the night, so I decide to go to the living area of the train and try to distract myself. I'm suprised when I walk in to see Quinoa.

She doesn't see me, but I can quite clearly tell what she's doing. She's listening to the same conversation I just finished listening too. After a few minutes, it's obvious they've said nothing more of interest and she turns around. She catches sight of me and has to stop herself from jumping, but she doesn't do a very good job of hiding it.

She doesn't acknoledge the fact that I'm there and goes and sits on one of the couches. I start to think that she's ignoring me and waiting for me to go away when she says, "Automatrons.. why are they loading those onto our train?"

"I don't know, but it doesn't give me a great feeling."

"I agree with you there. Do you really think they are going to be used in the games?"

"I sure hope not. Who knows what those things will be capable of."

She doesn't respond after this, but she gives a slight nod to show that she at least heard what I said. We stay there in silence for a few minutes until the entire train suddenly starts to lurch forward. Whatever these automatrons are going to be used for, there's no stopping it now. The trains on the move.

I walk over to the window and look out as I watch lights on the side of the train track race by. Tomorrow we'll be in the Capitol; in the hands of the crazy looking people who are thristy for our blood.


End file.
